


apologies, apologies (is it too late to say I care?)

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [84]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, caring and the expression and disbelief of said caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Most of the time, their bickering doesn't amount to much other than a bit of pettiness.Sometimes, though—sometimes, when they argue, someone steps too far.





	apologies, apologies (is it too late to say I care?)

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "I have a prompt idea that I hope you will like! (Your stuff is fucking epic honestly) “Because I hate you I hate you, and you lied to me, and you don’t get to be here anymore!”"

“No,” Hermann says, glaring at Newton, and drops the folder on the table, the paper hitting the one clean spot with a _thwap._

Newton raises his gaze from where it’s fixed on the kaiju sample he’s elbow-deep in; scowls up at Hermann. “Why _not?_” he demands, “it’s a good idea, Hermann, you _know_ it is—”

“A _terrible_ idea,” Hermann interrupts, sniffing, “really, Newton, I expected more—”

“Oh, you _expected_ more?” Newt snaps—this is a familiar argument, one they rehash often enough—, the only thing stopping him from gesticulating wildly the quicksand-like consistency of whatever it is he’s working on, “you expected _more?_ Well why don’t you try doing my job, Hermann, why don’t you—”

“Yes, your _job_—mucking about with bits of kaiju viscera. _So_ important, I’m sure,” Hermann says, scornfully. 

Newt gapes at him. “…that was uncalled for,” he says, eventually. “If you really don’t want to, that’s—yeah, that’s fine, whatever. But you didn’t have to go there, alright, Hermann? Just—” he cuts himself off, turns his gaze back to the purple-blue kaiju tissue.

He feels a bit bad for that, in all honesty—it _is_ a bit harsher than normal—but still, Hermann can’t resist the next jab; the twist of the knife. “What, have I hit a _nerve?_” he asks, “it hurts to be wrong, doesn’t it—”

“_Shut up!_” Newt yells, shoulders snapping back, stiff, body tensing. “Don’t—do _not_ go there, alright?“

“Well _where else can I?_” Hermann shoots back. “You left this—this _proposal_ on my desk, Newton, to _Drift_ again, how did you _think_ I was going to respond? Last time you did that, I found you _seizing on the floor,_ Newton—do you _enjoy_ reminding me of that—do you _enjoy_making me suffer?” The words burst out before he can stop them; more pain in them than he’s expecting. 

The instant they’re out, he regrets them; Newt’s expression shutters, eyes sliding out of focus for a second, before he says, coldly, “You don’t get to go there.”

“Sorry,” Hermann murmurs, taking a step back, and swallow. “I—sorry.” Then he practically flees back to his chalkboards, the sudden silence following in the wake of his outburst knocking him off-balance for the rest of the day.

* * *

“You’re moping,” Mako says bluntly when she drops down on the bench next to him the next day, tray in hand. Hermann gives a noncommittal hum and prods listlessly at the day’s lunch—some sort of pasta, he thinks, possibly.

She bumps his shoulder with her own. “Trouble in paradise?” she questions, demonstrating that she’s just as intuitive as ever.

“I said…something I shouldn’t’ve,” he admits, finally; quietly. “We were arguing, and I—I crossed a line.” 

She nods. “What are you going to do, then, Doctor?”

“I—” He pauses. “What?”

“What are you going to do, Doctor Gottlieb?” she repeats, raising a questioning brow. “In order to rectify the situation?”

He blinks. “I…I hadn’t thought about that,” he says, slowly. “I thought—well, I thought it best to give Newton his space; I doubt he wants to see me for a while, which is…understandable.” Admitting that is hard; he’s not terribly fond of admitting his mistakes, ever.

Mako hums; spears a slice of peach. “Something to think over, then,” she says, and turns to talk to the J-tech on her other side.

Hermann ponders her words, fork hovering indecisively over his food as he thinks. Finally, he takes a bite, mind slowly setting to work at the problem as he chews.

Just as he’s about to get up, Mako turns back to him, says, simply, “He likes cheesecake; there’s a few pieces left.”

He pauses for a moment, understanding settling in, and then says, softly, “Thank you, Ranger Mori.”

She gives him a small, wordless smile, and a nod.

* * *

Hermann walks to Newton’s desk, plate in hand, and swallows nervously; resists the urge to bite his lip. Newton doesn’t look up, though Hermann knows the other heard him approach.

“I brought you desert,” he says, and curses his voice for cracking halfway through. “Cheesecake. If you—if you’d like it.”

Newt remains silent; Hermann deflates, any hope he had had rapidly escaping him like air from a balloon. “Alright, then, I’ll just leave it here—”

“I’ll take it,” Newt says, suddenly, without looking at him, and holds out a hand for the plate.

Hermann bites his tongue and passes it over; waits a few minutes before he says, tentatively, “Can we talk about what happened?”

Newt stops eating. “Whatever,” he says, tonelessly. “I can’t force you to leave, so…”

“Oh,” Hermann says, hoping that he doesn’t sound as miserable as he feels. “Alright. I’m…I’m sorry. That’s all I wanted to say. I’ll—get to work, now, then.”

“Whatever,” Newton says, again, with a shrug, and finishes the last of the cheesecake.

Hermann swallows back the bile rising in his throat.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t—I didn’t mean what I said,” he says, softly.

That gets a reaction. “Do _not_ mock me,” Newt hisses, through gritted teeth; finally meets his gaze, eyes flashing.

“Why would I—? Newton, I’m not _mocking_ you!” Hermann exclaims. “Please, believe me when I say that—”

“All you’ve ever _done_ is mock me!” Newt snaps. “I yell at you and push your buttons and you—you fucking do _this_—this _bullshit_ apology stuff, and I’m sick of it! You don’t mean it—you never have!”

Hermann gapes at him. Newt is red-faced, now, breathing audibly laboured, and something is very, _very_ wrong. “Newton, why—”

“Because I hate you—I _hate_ you, and you lied to me, and you don’t get to be here anymore!” Newton says, all in a rush, and suddenly, he’s crying, shoulders shaking. Hermann is very, very confused.

“You…you _hate_ me?” he says, slowly, instead of giving the appropriate response and attempting to comfort the biologist. “Lie to you? Newton, what are you _talking_ about?”

“I don’t—” Newton stops, cut off by a sob. “I hate you—I _s—should_ hate you, but I—instead I hate—” he blinks rapidly, eyes shinning with tears, wraps his arms around himself. “I hate that it’s a—all a l—lie,” he manages, “I h—hate that I want you to care, e—even though you don’t—you _don’t_ care, and you keep l—lying and s—saying you do—a—and I w—want you to stay, b—but if you do I’ll h—hate you for staying when it’s o—only because you feel like you h—have to because we Drifted—”

He hiccoughs, unable to continue.

Hermann feels winded. “Newton,” he says, hesitantly, “do you—do you think that I’m being insincere when I say that I care for you?”

“_O—obviously,_” Newton chokes out, bitterly, “the D—drift scrambled your brain, it’s n—not real, why would it be?”

“Do you have that little faith in me?” Hermann snaps, and backpedals when Newton looks like he’s going to begin hyperventilating. “Newton, trust me, if I wanted to be gone, I _would_be. I’m not staying out of some sort of misplaced belief that you will be unable to function if I leave, or because I’ve become—_deluded_ into caring about your person because of our Drift. I’m staying because—” he pauses, swallows. “Because I _do_ care. More than I ever thought I would, or could,” he admits.

Then, cautiously, he says, “Would you…would physical contact be beneficial?”

“I—” Newt lets out a shuddering breath. “Y—yeah. Please.”

Hermann pulls in a half-breath through his teeth, inducing a soft whistling sound, and moves to Newt’s side of the desk. Carefully, he lowers himself so that he’s level with Newt, and embraces him.

The biologist tenses almost imperceptibly before relaxing against him, head on his shoulder, fingers loosening from where they’re digging into his own arms. Almost without thought, Hermann begins to breathe in a slow, even rhythm. Gradually, Newt’s own breathing slows to match, until the shuddering, soundless sobs subside, and he’s limp against Hermann.

“Sorry I got worked up,” he murmurs, finally, quietly. “I just—I’ve been weirdly stressed, which is funny, since we’re not at risk of being eaten by kaiju anymore.” He laughs, soundless, almost, vibrating against Hermann’s shoulder.

“And I’m sorry for what I said,” Hermann replies; doesn’t comment when Newt turns his head so that his breath rasps softly against Hermann’s skin, just above the collar of his shirt. “It _was_ out of line.”

“…I care to,” Newt says, after a few moments. “You know that, right?”

“I do _now,_” Hermann responds, which elicits a laugh that’s only a bit watery. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [pacificrimdyke](https://pacificrimdyke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
